


things that should not have gone cold

by yuliaplisetskaya



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 15:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8452624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuliaplisetskaya/pseuds/yuliaplisetskaya
Summary: Or, as he calls it: Waltz for John and Mary, An Addendum.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and un-Britpicked. English isn't my native language. This is my first sort-of fic so critics are highly appreciated :D

i.  
the night is young,  
a killer has just been caught,  
a life saved.  
in 2010 we would have laughed until our knees went weak,  
but this is 2014 and i am two years late to my own funeral.  
this is not what you wanted.  
i know.  
(i am not who you wanted. i know.)

ii.  
i did a pirouette, one, two, three times.  
spinning non-sequitur. hoping you'll be distracted.  
hoping you'll forget.  
hoping we'll rewind.

iii.  
this is the first time i play the violin since serbia.  
it's not mendelssohn's lieder and you're not smiling.

iv.  
(seven-percent solution)  
usage:  
\- beta version, when i was fourteen, to chase away the pain, to forget death and the limitations of time-space continuum;  
\- perfected version, when i was twenty-one, to sharpen details, to zoom in on surfaces until i could discern minute disrepancies in fibre;  
\- secret stash, when i am thirty-eight, to play pretend with reality, john's hug replaying over and over in my mind until it feels like a lover's embrace.

v.  
you're a plethora of contradictions.  
like an infinite personal supply of puzzles  
i keep for myself.  
a murderer and a doctor.  
taking a life just to save another.  
pulling people apart just to stitch them back up.

vi.  
you looked at me like i hung the stars  
and you said we weren't a couple.  
this, john, is your only contradiction i do not like.

vii.  
seventh intercostal space.  
got an actual broken heart, now.  
(well, technically it's a broken liver,  
but you said i do love to be dramatic).  
mycroft says it's quite matching.  
i tell him to shut up.

viii.  
"I'm not a hero, I'm a high-functioning sociopath!  
Merry Christmas!"  
(this is the last Christmas i'll have with you)

ix.  
the worst way to be in love, i think,  
is knowing without a sliver of doubt  
that the object of your affection  
loves you in return,  
but not being brave enough to jump the fence.  
(sentiment. sentiment. /sentiment/)

x.  
i said shut up, mycroft.

xi.  
your hand is cold against mine.  
the farewell is cold between us.  
they should not have been that way.


End file.
